The war was still going on but Annie knew Finnick was really dead. (Some changes, such as Finnick and Annie's child is stillborn)
For the Caesar's Palace October oneshot challenge. Thanks to funeral suits for Beta-ing.
don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water; cover me in rag and bone sympathy, 'cause I don't want to get over you
Dear Diary,
The water here is different. I don't like it.
When it splashes in my face when I'm canoeing, I don't have to spit it out and hack up salty phlegm for five minutes. It looks so smooth and confined compared to the wild, free ocean I used to live by.
Fresh water, obviously. I don't think Finnick would like fresh water unless it came from the sky.
I'm going to have to put this diary down to steer the canoe back to shore soon. President Coin won't let me outside unsupervised, so I'm watched by cameras in the trees. Just like in the Hunger Games...
I'm sorry, Diary, no matter how much Coin wants me to write in you, my hands are shaking so much I think I'm going to drop my pen in the water.
Annie Cresta laid on her back in a long, wide canoe. Her leather-bound diary laid on her stomach like it was patching up the cut where her and Finnick's stillborn baby boy was torn out of her womb. Her delicate, pale fingers trailed in the smooth lake water, creating small ripples. Annie's thick brown hair served as a thin pillow for her weary, aching head.
Around her was a small lake. It was one of those lakes that -before everything went wrong with the government- someone would want to visit and camp by. It was especially pretty this fall. The brown, yellow, and red-leaved trees wreathed the lake like the ring of people holding hands around Finnick's grave. There was a small stretch of packed-down dirt that served as the beach of the lake. After that, grass took over until the forest swallowed up the land. It was, in a simple way, beautiful.
Annie went out on the lake a lot. At first, Coin made her go out there to reflect on her emotions and write them down in her standard getting-over-your-PTSD diary. But then, to the astonishment of her doctors, Annie asked permission to go out on the lake.
"Doctor Aurelius?" she had asked in her usual quiet voice. That didn't wake the doctor, so she tapped his arm politely. He woke up as quickly as if someone had shocked him.
"Oh! Yes, Miss Cresta?" he had said, jamming his glasses back onto his long nose.
"Can I go canoeing, please?" Annie asked. When Dr. Aurelius hesitated, she added, "It's such a nice day out." And it was. The first leaves were falling.
That was two weeks ago. Annie always goes out to the lake lately- to write in her diary is what it's officially for. But she usually just taps her fingers on the sides of the canoe, fidgeting, because her fingers wish they were running themselves through Finnick's soft bronze hair.
Dear Diary,
I wonder if Finnick can see me now. I wonder if he's watching me, laughing his familiar laugh and telling me to get up and do something.
I'm looking but I can't find him. He told me once that the water was his home and he would always be on the water. I keep turning the canoe around at every slight noise, checking to see if Finnick is sitting on the shore, waving at me.
But he isn't. I want to look for him more, because somewhere out there he's waiting for me. But it's time to go inside now.
"President," said Dr. Aurelius, nodding respectfully as he entered Alma Coin's office. She looked up from her paperwork, her dull eyes fixating on the doctor.
"Yes? What is it?" asked President Coin. "Take a seat here." Dr. Aurelius gratefully collapsed into the hard plastic chair. He held out a small book. It was bound in leather and, in white writing, read "Property Of Annie Cresta". Her diary.
"It's about the girl," said Aurelius, handing the diary to the President. "Her latest diary entry brings on some concern for her mental state." Coin opened the diary to a dog-eared page. Her thin eyebrows arched up more and more after each sentence.
"Hm," said Coin. "I believe we should let her keep writing and canoeing, but if anything gets too troubling, kindly alert me." Dr. Aurelius nodded, but he looked as if he wanted Coin to lock Annie up in a padded room.
Dear Diary,
I'm not at my lake anymore.
After last week's bombing, the more important residents of Thirteen and the hospital patients were moved to what formerly was known as Lake Huron- in what used to be District Six.
They were thoughtful enough to take my canoe with them. If you're reading this right now, Dr. Aurelius, that was really nice of you.
It's very pretty here too. I like it here. But you know one thing I don't like? Gale.
Don't get me wrong, Gale, if you're reading this. You seem like a very nice boy and you and Katniss need each other right now. But I like having the water to myself.
See, that's the problem with you doctors. You think that just because I find the water calming that everyone, including Gale, Katniss, and Johanna, should go canoeing with me.
"But you looked so alone, Annie," you told me, Aurelius, when I asked you why. "And we wouldn't want you getting lost." You let out a nervous little laugh, as if there was something you wasn't telling me. "We wouldn't want you out on the water all alone, either."
Finnick? If you're reading this, I love you and I'm going to go look for you.
Annie was on her way.
One cold night, she heard Finnick calling her. "Annie... come here, Annie... come find me..."
She couldn't decline his invitation. So she got out of her cot. Her thin, bare feet slapped against the tiles so loudly she decided to steal shoes from Katniss. Annie carefully snatched them out from under the Mockingjay's cot, and slid them onto her feet. They were a little bit too small, but they were better than nothing.
Finnick's voice warned her that it would be cold where she was going, so she tugged a wool sweater over her head. She was wearing a hospital gown underneath it, but she was too anxious to find Finnick to wait any longer.
Annie tiptoed out of the hospital, past the slumbering Dr. Aurelius, and out to the canoe shed. She carefully and quietly grabbed the paddles of her favorite canoe. She tossed the splintery, wet-smelling wooden steering devices onto the ground. She found her canoe and dragged it out next to the water. She took hold of the paddles and used them to pole her way into the water. Then she was gone.
She felt something poking her mostly-bare leg. She stopped paddling for a second. It was her diary and pen, wrapped in one of her homemade knit caps.
Dear Diary,
It's funny. I keep remembering things that I used to block out of my life, pretend they didn't exist.
Like how the Career pack came to my camp while I was sleeping and stripped me. How they laughed and encouraged the District One boy that was assaulting me.
Why do they even call it 'assaulting'? We all know, even the Capitol, that it was rape. They called it 'like a flower blooming and being hit with a ray of very bright sunshine'. Like someone innocent experiencing something terrible. But I'm not a flower. I am a disgusting piece of seaweed no one truly cares for.
I remember how Finnick would come to me, crying, after he won the Games. He would lie with his head in my lap, his tears soaking my skirt. He'd whisper things about tridents and blood, so much blood.
I remember hearing the jabberjay in Finnick's second arena that sounded like me. I remember the wild look in his eyes when he ran, looking for me.
I remember how the Peacekeepers that tortured me beat me with lead pipes until my whole body was bruised and I didn't want to move an eyelash for fear of throwing up in pain.
I remember how I used to clamp my hands over my ears because I didn't want to hear the voices of the Careers saying, "We killed Thomas, we killed Thomas".
I remember how, after Finnick died in that damn mission for the Mockingjay, everyone gave me flowers, some knitted me clothes, some made me food, some sent me cards, some just sat by my bed and whispered their reasons of sympathy. "My father got shot to death last week." "My little brother died of the pox." I got sick of it.
But, Finnick, I can hear you better here. I think I'm going to find you very soon.
Love, Annie.
Annie paddled with all her might. Her skinny arms were burning and cramping up to no end, but she had to keep going. She had to find Finnick.
She got hungry, of course, and thirsty. She stooped so low she drank lake water and ate dead fish that had floated to the surface of the lake. They made her feel queasy, but in an hour it was over and she was back to full strength, paddling her poor heart out.
The canoe sliced through the water like a shark moving in for the kill. She was headed up north, as far as she could go. With every yard she paddled, she heard Finnick clearer and better.
She was nearing the farthest north part of Lake Huron. It had gotten so cold. She shivered, her skin so pale she looked like a ghost girl. But she kept paddling...
Dear Diary,
I can hear Finnick very well now. I think he's right ahead of me- but then I paddle, and find that he isn't. Why isn't he, Diary? Where did Finnick go? Is he paddling away from me?
At least I know that I'm perfectly alone on the water, except for the moon and the stars that shine down on me. And the occasional bird that flies gracefully through the pitch black sky.
When I find Finnick, I won't be alone anymore.
Soon, Annie realized something.
When she laid down in her canoe to sleep, her ears were pressed against the floor of it. And surprisingly, she could hear Finnick even better. She thought about this, pondering where Finnick might be.
Then she thought of something: if she could hear Finnick better when she was closer to the water... Finnick must be underwater. And not just underwater- at the bottom of the lake.
But that was so far down! Annie used to think that the lake back in District Thirteen was so very deep. But now, in Lake Huron, she was completely intimidated by the depth of the lake. She wished that she could see the murky bottom...
Dear Diary,
Finnick's getting impatient. He's disgusted with me for sitting here in this canoe in the same spot, wondering whether or not to jump into the water. Does he even love me?
But now he's telling me in his usual sweet voice that of course he loves me, he'll love me forever. I'm getting so tired. I can't sleep, his voice is too loud.
"It's okay, Annie," he's telling me. "You can sleep now."
Goodnight.
When Annie woke up, she realized something terrible. Her paddles had gone missing. They weren't floating a few yards away- they were just gone. Totally gone. She realized with a sinking feeling that the paddles weren't meant to float. They must be at the bottom of the lake with Finnick. She was trapped- and there was no food she could see.
Annie carefully crouched in the canoe, setting down her diary in the bottom of the canoe. She shivered as the cold wind bit through her body. Her hospital gown clung to her skinny legs. She looked up at the moonless sky, hoping, wishing, for Finnick to meet her.
"Finnick," she said firmly. "I'm coming, Finnick." She could hear Finnick's smooth voice persuading her to jump into the water. And why shouldn't she? She'd be with her Finnick, the person that's loved her always, instead of alone on the water.
Annie Cresta dove into the water.
The water was so cold she nearly screamed. It felt like taking a bath in a tub full of ice cubes. Her hair swirled around her in a brown cloud as she dove deeper into the water, down to the depths, down to Finnick. But like any person, her lungs needed air. Reflexively, she swam to the surface of the water, gulping in freezing air, trying to make it back to her canoe.
Finnick was shouting at her, telling her she had to dive deeper, she had to let the water fill her lungs. She had to let it happen.
It was so unlike Finnick she nearly stopped treading water. Finnick would never make her do this.
Her doctors would call it "putting a name to her demons". "Giving the devil the name of a loved one". And that was exactly what Annie was doing.
She knew it as soon as Finnick shouted, Die already!
"No!" Annie screamed into the frigid night air, her voice cracking. "I'm not going to die! You can't make me! I hate you! I hate you!" Water was on her face- salt water and fresh water. Tears and lake water.
Suddenly the voice went silent. Annie was alone.
She started to cry harder. The canoe was drifting farther and farther away and her muscles were aching from treading water so long. She remembered how, in her diary, she wrote: I like having the water to myself. If she could take that back now she would. She felt so very lonely without Finnick's voice- no, it wasn't Finnick.
"Don't leave me alone!" she screamed shrilly, her words piercing the air. "Finnick! I want to be with you! I love you, Finnick! Don't leave me here alone!" But no one came. There was no one to help her now. And her canoe was so far away.
Annie took a deep, shuddering breath, and stopped treading the water. Slowly, she sank under the surface, her tears mixing with the water. She breathed in the cold water, letting her body sink. Bubbles rose in the water- her last breaths.
In a few more seconds, she was with Finnick. The real Finnick.
A month later, Johanna was walking along the shore of Lake Huron, thinking, when she found the canoe. It was perfectly intact, but the paddles were missing. Johanna recognized it immediately, her breath choking her, her eyes widening.
She ran into the hospital, screaming, "Annie's canoe, I found her canoe!" She ran back outside followed by Dr. Aurelius. With his help, they dragged the canoe onshore. There was no body.
But in the bottom of the canoe was a leather-bound diary.